Chapter 3 - What Grandpa HidBy seven o’clock Thanksgiving night, Emma and I were in a hotel suite twenty miles from my parents’ house.
Snow had not started yet, but tiny flecks of ice tapped against the windshield.
Emma sat quietly behind me, clutching her paper turkey.
“Sweetheart, put your headphones on for me.”
She frowned.
“Are we in trouble?”
“No.”
That answer came too quickly.
Her eyes told me she knew it.
I handed her the tablet from the seat pocket.
“Watch your animal movie.”
Once the headphones covered her ears, I spoke.
“Robert, tell me.”
Our accountant, Robert Hale, had worked with my grandfather for twenty-eight years. Technically, he was corporate counsel now, but Grandpa used to call him the only lawyer he trusted to understand numbers.
“There are two sets of books.”
I stared through the windshield.
“What?”
“I started comparing vendor payments after you asked about the missing retirement deposits. The accounting software you can access isn’t complete.”
“Derek created another ledger?”
“Someone did.”
“How much?”
Robert hesitated.
“That depends on what we count.”
My stomach tightened.
“Count everything.”
“Four point eight million dollars over thirty-one months.”
For a few seconds, I couldn’t hear anything except the heater.
“Four point eight million?”
“At minimum.”
“Where?”
“Property acquisitions. Consulting payments. Construction loans. Transfers to entities registered in Delaware.”
“Derek?”
“Some.”
“Vanessa?”
“One company appears connected to her.”
I rubbed my forehead.
This was far worse than I expected.
Whitaker Home Supply was successful, but it wasn’t a multinational corporation. Four-point-eight million dollars was enough to hurt us badly.
“What’s the worst thing?” I asked.
“Claire…”
“You told me the money wasn’t the worst.”
Another silence.
“Your signature is on several loan guarantees.”
I felt cold.
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.”
“I never signed them.”
“I know.”
“What loans?”
“Three commercial real-estate loans totaling six million.”
My breath stopped.
“Secured by what?”
“The Hartford warehouse. Two company-owned retail locations.”
I gripped the steering wheel.
Robert continued.
“And your personal shareholder distributions.”
“They forged my signature.”
“I believe so.”
“Believe?”
“I need a forensic examiner before I say it conclusively.”
A horn sounded somewhere on the road.
I barely noticed.
“Why would Derek do this?”
“I don’t know yet.”
I did.
At least part of it.
Derek had always resented Grandpa leaving me control.
He believed the company belonged to him because he was the oldest son.
Even as children, that phrase followed us everywhere.
Oldest son.
The boy who would carry the name.
The one Grandpa was supposedly grooming.
Then, six weeks before his death, Grandpa changed his will.
Derek got twenty-four percent.
Dad retained twenty-five.
I received fifty-one.
My brother never forgave me.
“Robert, lock everything you legally can.”
“I already instructed the bank according to the shareholder agreement.”
“Payroll stays open.”
“Yes.”
“Employee benefits too.”
“Yes.”
“No one misses a paycheck because of this.”
“I agree.”
“Derek loses purchasing authority, wire authority, everything.”
“He already has.”
My phone buzzed.
DEREK.
Then MOM.
Then DAD.
Then DEREK again.
I ignored them.
Robert lowered his voice.
“There’s something else.”
Of course there was.
“I found a payment made twelve days ago to a private investigation company.”
“For what?”
“The invoice says asset research.”
“Whose assets?”
“That information isn’t in the corporate file.”
My eyes moved instinctively to the rearview mirror.
Emma was smiling faintly at her movie.
“Robert.”
“Yes?”
“Does any of this involve Emma?”
“I don’t know.”
That terrified me more than if he had said yes.
My phone buzzed again.
This time the message came from Vanessa.
You selfish witch. You have no idea what Derek has done to protect this family.
I read it twice.
Protect.
People always used noble words when they needed to hide ugly things.
I took a screenshot.
“Robert, preserve every email, message, invoice and access log.”
“Already happening.”
“Can Derek delete anything?”
“I’ve had IT lock him out.”
“Good.”
There was a knock on my window.
I jumped.
Dad stood outside.
He had driven after me.
I told Robert I would call back.
Then I lowered the window.
Dad looked twenty years older than he had at dinner.
“Claire, come back.”
“No.”
“We need to talk.”
“We just had the opportunity.”
His eyes moved toward Emma.
“Not in front of everyone.”
“You were comfortable throwing us out in front of everyone.”
“That was your mother.”
“And you agreed.”
His face tightened.
“I was trying to stop things from getting worse.”
“They’re four-point-eight-million-dollars worse.”
His eyes changed.
There.
A flicker.
Recognition.
“You knew.”
“No.”
“You knew something.”
“Claire—”
“Did you know Derek was taking money?”
Dad looked toward the road.
My stomach dropped.
“Oh my God.”
“It isn’t what you think.”
“That sentence has never been followed by anything good.”
“He was trying to save the company.”
“By stealing from it?”
“He made investments.”
“With corporate funds.”
“He planned to return everything.”
I stared at him.
“You knew.”
“Not at first.”
“How long?”
Dad said nothing.
“How long?”
“Eight months.”
A laugh escaped me.
It sounded broken.
“You knew for eight months, and today you threw me and your granddaughter out because I was asking questions?”
“I was trying to keep the family together.”
“No. You were protecting Derek.”
“He is your brother.”
“And I am your daughter.”
Dad flinched.
Good.
He should.
His phone began ringing.
He glanced at the screen.
Then at me.
“Claire, the bank called him.”
“I know.”
“You need to reverse this.”
“No.”
“If the audit begins, things could come out that can’t be taken back.”
“That’s generally the point of an audit.”
His voice suddenly sharpened.
“You don’t understand what’s at stake.”
“Then explain it.”
He looked at Emma.
Then leaned closer.
“Not here.”
“Try me.”
Dad lowered his voice.
“Your grandfather didn’t give you controlling interest because he trusted you more than Derek.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“He gave it to you because he was afraid.”
“Of Derek?”
Dad shook his head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
He looked toward my parents’ street.
“Your mother.”
A cold silence fell between us.
“My mother had nothing to do with the company.”
“That’s what she wanted you to believe.”
Before I could ask another question, Dad’s phone rang again.
This time he answered.
“Thomas Whitaker.”
His expression changed immediately.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“When?”
A pause.
Then all the color drained from his face.
“What do you mean the documents are gone?”
I stepped out of the car.
“What documents?”
Dad ended the call.
“The original shareholder records.”
“Where were they?”
“In the safe at headquarters.”
“And?”
“They’re missing.”
“Who had access?”
May you like
Dad looked straight at me.
“Your mother.”
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